


Right Back Home

by OfRosesAndRavenstags



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arya's older in this, F/M, Faceless training, Gratuitous Smut, Jaqen's really awesome, Lemon, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, handjobs, lemonade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:50:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2683271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfRosesAndRavenstags/pseuds/OfRosesAndRavenstags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya wants to become faceless, but, in order to do so, she knows she must become a master in all weapons--one of those weapons being the art of seduction. A certain red-haired assassin teaches her. Shameless, plotless smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Back Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! This is my first time using AO3. This is currently un-beta'd, as I'm currently looking for a beta. 
> 
> This is an AU where Arya is looking to become a faceless woman. She is much older—probably at least eighteen. This is a smutty fic. Also, I’ve only read the first two books of the series. :P

 

“A lovely girl must learn to please a man,” Jaqen stated calmly, his face an emotionless mask. Wisps of his hair tickled Arya’s cheek. She turned away from him suddenly, looking out to the sea. 

They were on a balcony—one made of bright golden stone and coated in lush green vinery—that overlooked part of the city and the neighboring brackish waters that separated Braavos from the rest of the world. There were ships at the port, tied to docks and surrounded by bustling people. A storm was beginning to spread across the horizon, hinting that the currently clear skies were about to be swallowed up by clouds of rain.

Arya sighed. Ever since coming to the free cities in search of Jaqen H’ghar, she had known that she wished to become a faceless man—a faceless _woman_ , rather—but she had not thought that the art of seduction would be part of her training to become one. 

“Has a girl changed her mind about becoming faceless?”

She kicked a stray pebble with the toe of her boot, sending it clattering along the stone floor quietly. “No,” she said indignantly. “Of course I have not _changed my mind!_ ”

Jaqen stared at her contemplatively. “What is a lovely girl’s problem, then?”

Arya honestly did not know. “Nothing,” she spat.

There was a sudden pressure on her hips, and she looked to see Jaqen grasping her. “A lovely girl is no good at lies.” His lips traced her neck, ghosting over her flesh and eliciting shivers that ran along her spine. He pressed a kiss behind her ear, and it almost made her weak in the knees. 

She shoved him away harshly, continuing to look out into the distance as she fought to calm her racing pulse. “Stop it, Jaqen.”

He settled himself on the wall of the balcony, gazing at her thoughtfully. “A girl confuses a man; she claims to desire joining the faceless, but is not willing to train to do so.”

“ _That,_ ” she huffs, motioning between them with her hands, “was not part of the training to become faceless.”

“The faceless men are masters of _all_ weapons, not just those of steel and iron. A man would consider his mind much more powerful than the broadest of swords.”

Arya cast a tentative look at her “master.” “You cannot spill blood with your mind, Jaqen, or kill with it.”

Jaqen only shook his head in dismay. “A lovely girl does not see, despite the pretty eyes she has.”

“Stop speaking in riddles,” she demanded. “I can see just fine.”

Standing, he took a few steps until he was only a foot from Arya. “Has a girl ever seen a faceless woman?”

She thought for a moment before she realized that, before coming to Braavos, Jaqen had been one of the only faceless men she had ever seen, and he had certainly been the only one she knew anything about. “No.”

“A faceless woman uses her mind, her steel, and her body as weapons. A girl has not mastered her body; a girl does not yet know how to use it in her favor. A man was only trying to teach her how.”

“Jaqen—“

“The kindly man would not allow a lovely girl to become faceless without mastery in all weapons.”

Arya turned to him abruptly, suddenly furious. “I know how to use my body!” she said loudly, glaring at Jaqen. “There is nothing _you_ can teach me about it that I don’t already know.”

It was a lie and Arya knew it herself. Jaqen was a man; a man who had most likely bedded more women than she could count. 

“A lovely girl would have no problem showing a man what she knows, then?”

If she had been drinking anything, it would have spilled from her mouth. “Jaqen! I’m not going to … _show_ you any of those talents—“

“Or lack-there-of.”

Arya stepped forward, moving her hand to strike him across the cheek. Jaqen caught her hand, however, and used it as leverage to pull her to him. Her lips separated and she began to struggle against his hold. 

“Let me go!”

Jaqen adjusted his hands, his long and slender fingers falling into the shallow dips where Arya’s thighs met her hips. She gasped at the contact, her hips involuntarily moving further into his grip with the new sensation. Foreign warmth began to spread in her stomach. 

“Faceless men, too, have been trained in the art of seduction,” he whispered into her ear, his nose moving her hair away from the side of her neck. With his teeth, he grazed her earlobe, sending shivers so strong down her spine that he could feel them. 

A sigh escaped her before she trapped her lower lip between her teeth. “Jaqen—stop it right now. I do not want you to continue.”

“A girl’s body says otherwise.” Jaqen moved one of his hands slightly, moving it back and forth sensually along her pelvic bone. “A man can tell a lovely girl would like to be taught how to become faceless.”

“This will not make me faceless.”

He growled, nipping at her skin teasingly. “It will make a girl much closer to being one.”

“I am a lady!” Arya exclaimed, resuming her struggle. “I have _honor!_ I am a Stark, and I demand you to stop this very instant, Jaqen H’gar—you bastard!”

“Ah,” Jaqen chastised. “The faceless do not keep identities, and a man is not a bastard, he assures you.” His voice was deep and husky—indescribably attractive to Arya’s ears. 

Still, she pushed him away, her hands shoving harshly against his chest. Her feet carried her to towards the entryway, further away from him. “I’m too young to be with you in that way,” she stated, her hands straightening her tunic, which he had ruffled. 

“A man does not understand why a girl sees age as anything more than what it really is: a number.”

Arya reached desperately for a rebuttal. “It’s not _proper,_ ” she said, “for you to want to have sex with me, Jaqen.”

He grimaced. “Sex is a terrible word for it, a man thinks. In this case, it would be for faceless training purposes, and hopefully done artfully.”

_Nothing I saw during my stay at flee bottom resembled anything remotely artful,_ Arya thought. _It always looked like a man was selfishly and harshly taking a woman to feed his own desires, not hers. It was ugly and crude, too—_

Jaqen had edged towards her again, but he didn’t touch her. “A man has been called a masterful lover many times before—often right before he killed those giving him the compliments. He only wishes to teach a lovely girl to kill that way as well.”

“I can kill in many other ways,” Arya said stubbornly. 

He shook his head. “As can a man, but he knows that seduction is a weapon much more effective than most. Sometimes, it is the only way for a man to hide his knife from the sheep.”

A cool breeze gusted onto the balcony, blowing Arya’s lengthy hair into her face. She brushed the strands out of the way irritably, scowling. “What does it matter if those you kill see their deaths coming?” she asked.

“Has a girl not learned anything a man has taught her? Faceless men give death to the Red  , and death is best when it is untainted by the unsavory taste of worry and knowing.”

Arya reluctantly nodded. “Fine, but why is seduction the only way—“

“A man never said it was the only way.”

“Then why must I learn it?”

Jaqen’s expression quickly turned from blank to irritated. “A man has already explained to a girl why. If she does not wish to learn, a man will leave.” He turned for the door, his red hair blowing in the wind. 

“Jaqen—wait!” Arya found herself saying, rushing to his side before he could exit the balcony. She began to wring her hands, suddenly nervous. “I-I want to learn,” she whispered finally. “I want to be a good faceless woman.”

The well-trained assassin looked her over, his gaze calculating as he studied her face, searching for lies. “Why should a man believe that a lovely girl has so hastily changed her mind about her teachings?”

Arya looked to the floor. “I trust you,” she mumbled truthfully. _Plus, I want to know why my stomach fills with warmth at the sight of you._ “I want to become faceless, and if this helps, I want to learn how.”

He studied her some more, a smile eventually playing on his lips. “If a lovely girl is sure—“

“I’m not a girl anymore, Jaqen.”

Jaqen H’ghar chuckled lightly at her stubbornness, his shoulders shaking gently. “For her age, a lovely girl is very much a woman grown.” Suddenly, he wrapped her in his embrace, gripping at her hips and pressing his body against her back. “But when it comes down to this art, a girl is as experienced as a child with half her years.”

Arya gasped when she felt his teeth nipping below her ear, occasionally catching and pulling at her earlobe. Jaqen’s long fingers were rubbing against the juts of her hipbones, without rhythm or apparent purpose. “Jaqen,” she sighed, her breathing quickly becoming uneven and in pants. 

“A man feels a fire within himself… Does a lovely girl feel one blazing within her as well?”

She nodded, her eyes squeezing shut as his hands grasped at her ass. Smoothly, Jaqen lifted her onto his hips, wrapping her legs around him and sensually rotating his pelvis against her heated core. Arya could feel a slight hardness pushing against her as he began to carry her into the bedroom, filling her stomach with a slow-burning warmth. 

Jaqen laid her down on the feather bed, undoing the laces of his top before he moved to straddle her. His deft fingers made trails of heat as they moved across her skin. His mouth kissed at her bare ankles, slowly turning to run up her calves as his hands pulled at her breeches.

Arya fidgeted uncomfortably, looking down at the beautiful man atop her.  His eyes were closed and he was progressively pushing her breeches up, exposing her skinny tan legs. Occasionally, she could feel his teeth scrape lightly at her flesh. 

Her hands were laying awkwardly at her sides; she didn’t know what to do with them. _Should I touch him?_ she wondered. _Am I supposed to run my fingers through his hair—men like that, right? Should I be kissing him?_

“A girl worries too much,” Jaqen stated suddenly, moving himself further up her body until his eyes were level with hers and he was propping himself up by his elbows. 

“I’m not worrying,” Arya said indignantly, turning her head to look at the wall. They were in the bedroom she was assigned—it was small, yet comfortable, painted in some of the light, sunny colors common to Braavós. The bed was no four-poster king, but it was bigger than Arya had been used to and was reasonably plush. 

“A girl is tense,” he said, rubbing a hand over the taut muscles of her thighs. “Why?”

She blushed—a rare thing for her. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, almost inaudibly. 

His fingers played idly with her hair, smiling almost reassuringly. “That is why a man volunteered to teach a girl. One cannot know what they have not yet learned.”

Oddly enough, Arya didn’t feel suffocated; she was pressed up completely against Jaqen, beneath him, yet she did not feel weak or powerless. There was that feeling in her stomach and the widespread heat that travelled between the two of them, but she was comfortable enough and didn’t feel threatened. 

She just wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. 

Jaqen shifted, as if reading her thoughts, taking her hands in his and placing them on his shoulders. He sat up and began to guide her fingers along the planes of his chest and torso, his green eyes gazing meaningfully at her all the while. 

“When a girl touches a man like this, he appreciates it dearly,” he explained, finally releasing her hands. She continued to move them along him, pushing his top off his shoulders while her fingers traced lightly over his pink nipples. He nodded in approval, his own hands finding her hips and pulling her further onto his lap. 

Jaqen’s lips kissed at her throat, his teeth nipping and his tongue soothing. “A girl has no need to be worried,” he stated against her. “She can do little wrong to a man now.”

Carefully, Arya brushed a hand over the growing bulge in his trousers, pausing when she heard him inhale sharply. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, withdrawing her hand. 

He caught it, keeping her from pulling it away. “A girl does not know the sounds of pleasure from those of pain.” 

_He liked it when I touched him there?_ Arya wondered to herself. She didn’t protest when he lead her fingers back to his crotch. Cautiously, she squeezed him, enjoying the sounds that the action drew forth from his throat. 

Jaqen kissed where her neck met her shoulder, his deft fingers undoing the laces of her shirt. Arya tensed when he moved to take it off, making him pause. 

“The faceless show no fear, as fear gives one an identifiable physiognomy.”

“I’m not scared,” Arya said, indignant again. _Mother used to say that the first time is painful…_

She felt his hands moving about her, cool air suddenly hitting the sweat-dampened skin of her shoulders as Jaqen bared them to the cool afternoon breeze. Arya shivered slightly, her hands moving to hover right above Jaqen’s crotch. 

He leaned in close to whisper into her ear. “It is okay for a girl to be. Sometimes, it’s the seemingly minute things that have the ability to frighten man the most.”

She brought a hand to his face, tracing the line of his jaw lightly. “You always wear this face around me,” she stated. “You don’t have to—the Gods know you have plenty of other faces to use—but yet you always use this one when you’re with me.”

“It’s the face a man feels that a girl likes the best.” He smiled. “Besides, a girl insists upon calling a man Jaqen H’gar, and this is the face of he.”

“What do other people call you?”

“A man has more identities than strands of hair.”

Arya moved her hand to his red hair, fisting it tightly and pulling his face closer to her. He smelled of salt and roses, sunshine and musk. Every breath he exhaled tickled her cheek.

“Jaqen.”

His lips had found the soft skin of her neck again. “Mhm? A girl talks too much.”

“Some would argue that you speak too little,” she argued. “Is it true what you said—that you’ve killed many women after bedding them?”

Jaqen’s eyes locked with hers for a moment, unhidden suspicion swallowing his features. “Women and men alike, yes,” he answered slowly.

“Why?”

“The Red God required death, and a man thought that He would appreciate a show before He got those deaths.”

“Are you planning to kill me?”

Jaqen winced, frowning and pulling away slightly. “A man has no reason to kill a lovely girl.” His voice was a whisper that Arya had to strain to hear. 

She tightened her grip on him, keeping him from moving any further from her. “Why are you doing this, then?”

He sighed, looking away from her. “A man has already told a girl why. For—“

“Don’t you dare say training purposes. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“What is a girl suggesting?”

Arya cupped Jaqen’s jaw in her palm, turning his head to face her. “Do you want me?” she asked. “Like a man wants a woman?”

He stared at her, saying nothing. 

“Answer me, Jaqen.”

She felt him place a hand on her hip, and he tucked it up under her shirt, beginning to trace random circles on the skin there with his thumb. He turned his head away from hers and looked to floor. “A man would be daft not to want a lovely girl.”

“Stop speaking in riddles.”

“A man is not saying any riddles.”

Arya leaned in close, her lips just barely brushing against his as she spoke softly. “I think I want you,” she stated, trying her best for being seductive. 

He swallowed audibly before pushing her harshly into the mattress and grinding onto her. Arya gasped at the feeling of his hips rubbing deliciously against hers, moving to grip Jaqen’s hair tightly and pull him closer to her. 

His lips traced against the line of her jaw, occasionally pausing to nip at a spot. He took special care latching his mouth onto the sensitive skin of her pulse, relishing in the pleasing feeling of it racing against him. 

Arya closed her eyes, welcoming the waves of new sensations as they crashed upon her. Everything she felt was Jaqen, and she was loving it. Her nostrils filled with his scent—her nerves ignited under his ministrations. Before she even knew what was happening, small whimpers were escaping from her parted lips and her toes were curling. 

Jaqen flipped them over suddenly, moving her to straddle his hips.

She let out a noise of surprise. “Jaqen—“

He grinned, pressing one hand to her hip and the other to her lips. “A man simply suggests that a lovely girl should be in control of her _learning.”_

Arya shifted awkwardly, her hands coming to rest on his chest. She quickly became aware of the lack of barriers between them: he was shirtless and both their trousers were unlaced; her shirt hung loosely around her skinny frame, just barely covering her…

Jaqen brought a hand up to her face, smoothing down her hair and gently rubbing his thumb against her cheek. “If a girl is having second thoughts about her education, she need only tell a man.”

She shook her head quickly. “I’m not,” she assured, as if deciding suddenly that she was sure that she wanted to go through with it. 

Grasping his cheeks with both hands, Arya connected her lips to his in a sloppy kiss. Her lips were both yielding and hard with inexperience; Jaqen smiled as her tongue fumbled around, trying to get into his mouth, but opened up for her. 

When they parted for air—Arya breathing heavier than he was—their hands began to wander and tease and prod; she was pulling at his pants and he was, with certain grace, untying her top and removing it from her shoulders. 

The warm breeze, turned cool from the sweat that rested on her skin, made Arya shiver. Where Jaqen was touching her, caressing her, she felt on fire. Where he wasn’t, the winds nipped at her, and not in the pleasing way he was. 

Arya struggled awkwardly with the ties to his trousers, her fingers clumsy as Jaqen lips played along her neck. Eventually, he reached down between them and deftly untied the laces to his pants, singlehandedly pulling the garment down and over his hips until they bunched at his knees. 

His member, half-hard, pressed up against Arya’s thigh. He was naked, splayed beneath her almost wantonly. She was wriggling oddly above him, not sure what she should be doing. Her palms were running along his naked torso, keeping far away from what rested below his waist. 

Jaqen’s hands reached up to grasp her breasts, his eyes gazing at hers powerfully while he did it. He was grinning; Arya subconsciously pushed her chest out to meet his hands. Her nipples, oversensitive and puckered from the cool winds that had whipped through the room, sent waves of pleasure straight to her core every time his fingers brushed over them. The sensation, though indescribable and foreign to Arya, was one she quickly found herself craving.

Jaqen suddenly removed one of his hands from her chest, moving it to the back of her neck. He pulled face down to his, angling it so he could whisper into her ear. “Is a girl feeling more educated yet?”

Arya’s face reddened and she flexed her jaw. “No.”

He grinned, turning her face again so he could look into her eyes. “Should a man teach more?”

The blush intensified. “Stop it, Jaqen.”

Jaqen withdrew from her quickly, removing his hands. “As a girl wishes. Though, if she wishes to stop, she should probably get off of a man.”

“Stop being an idiot.”

“A man—“

Arya kissed him, hard and true on the mouth, swallowing his words. Her lips were unyielding, confident, unlike just minutes before. Her fingers found purchase on his shoulders and she pressed herself closer to him, allowing her tongue to slip through his parted lips.

“A woman is learning quite quickly,” Jaqen stated between kisses, his own hands roving up Arya’s ribs to eventually reclaim her breasts. Teasingly, he began to pluck at her nipples, mentally noting that she didn’t tense up this time. “A man is impressed, he assures.” Flames ignited within Arya as he continued to tease her modest breasts. 

Smoothly, Jaqen removed his lips from hers, moving to kiss and nip at her neck. His tongue on her skin did nothing to quench the flames—in fact, his mouth was like gasoline to the burning fires of her desire for him. Arya sighed, her body sinking down to press harder on his.

“A girl should be careful when resting herself on a man,” Jaqen said strongly. “There’s a fine line between the perfect amount of pressure to elicit torturous pleasure and pressure to the point of suffocation.”

“I thought the whole reason you were teaching me the ‘art of seduction’ was so I could be able to kill people.”

Jaqen’s lips moved tantalizingly against her skin as he spoke. “The Red God does not—“

“—Like his victims to see their deaths coming,” Arya finished for him, rolling her eyes. “You told me.”

Between beats of her heart, Jaqen flipped her over, his legs moving to straddle her thighs. He grasped her jaw in his hands and quickly snapped it to the side, stopping just before he could break her neck or give her whiplash. 

Arya’s eyes widened. “What—“

“That,” he states, frowning slightly, “would have been a quick and unseen death.”

“You could have killed me!”

Jaqen nods. “Yes. A man could have killed a foolish girl just a few seconds ago, just as he could have killed her minutes or hours or days or months or years ago.”

“No you couldn’t have.”

“A girl knows that is a blatant lie. A man is a trained killer—one of the most talented there is. He would have had no problem killing someone as untrained and weak as a little girl.”

“I’m not weak,” Arya said defensively, stubbornly. 

His lips touched the shell of her ear and he whispered to her calmly, cooly, seductively. “Prove it, obstinate girl.”

Her muscles relaxed beneath him. “How?”

“A man can teach a girl, if she’s willing to stop being so stubborn.”

There was a brief moment between them where nothing was said. The silk curtains by the window waved in the breeze and  the scent of pomegranates and citrus wafted surrounded them. Arya could hear the bustling of people in the streets, Jaqen could sense the mice that were scampering behind the walls. 

Staring up at him, Arya could see that Jaqen’s eyes were no normal color: They were almost a golden hazel now, though she could have sworn that they had been a grayish blue before. His hair shifted with the breeze, but it could not have looked more collected.

“Teach me, Jaqen,” she said finally, her words breathy. “Teach me how.”

Shifting, Jaqen placed all of his weight onto one arm. With a hand suddenly freed, he moved it along her ribcage, his touch dizzying and feather-light. His fingers lazily traced the underside of each breast, circling around the mounds until they slipped across her erect nipples and taunted her into a state of extreme arousal.

After a while, he stopped his ministrations, moving to support himself on both arms again. “A girl should flip us over,” he suggested, “so that she can give it a try.”

Arya chuckled a little under her breath, thinking it would be no difficult task to move atop Jaqen. She grasped his shoulders in her hands and shoved to the side, though he did not do more than sway a little. 

It was his turn to laugh. “A girl should shove up and slightly to the left, not strictly to the side, and put her stomach into it, not her arms.”

She did as he recommended, this time succeeding in flipping him onto his back with little problem. Her knees pressed down on both sides of his hips, and she was resting some of her weight on the spot right above his crotch.

“A girl could touch a man as he touched her.”

Arya raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have boobs for me to grope, Jaqen.”

He said nothing, his face revealed nothing, and he didn’t move. If anything, he looked slightly expectant. 

“Jaqen—“

“A girl told a man she wanted to learn the way of seduction. This is the way.”

_Oh, gods,_ Arya thought, hesitantly bringing her petite hands to rest upon Jaqen’s oddly hairless chest. She blushed when he took his hands in hers and began to guide them again, having her stubby fingers trace the skin beneath his nipples in gentle circles. He groaned softly, eventually releasing her.

She continued to touch him, moving progressively closer to rubbing his nipples, just as he had done to her. As time passed, the hardness he had pressed against her thigh enlarged, delineating just how good of a job she was doing touching him. 

Simultaneously, Arya’s thumbs brushed faintly across his pebbled nipples, eliciting a breathy sigh from his parted lips. Her lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. She was feeling more powerful than she did with needle in her hand. 

Jaqen ducked his head to brush his lips against hers. His hair tickled the sides of her face, and Arya found herself smiling into the kiss. She felt dizzy as he continued his attack on her mouth—like there wasn’t enough air in the room, like she couldn’t be close enough to him. 

“Jaqen,” she moaned, rotating her hips into him. “Please.” She didn’t know what exactly she was begging for, but she knew that she needed it, whatever it was. 

His lips moved to her jaw, kissing and sucking until there was a damp trail along the length of her mandible. Arya’s head fell to the side as she subconsciously gave him greater access, her back arching up off the bed and her eyes squeezing shut…

“Ah-ah-ah,” Jaqen admonished, stopping suddenly. 

Arya whimpered pitifully, feeling the loss of his lips on her skin acutely. “What? Why’d you stop?”

“A lovely girl should always keep her eyes open and alert for danger.”

“Dammit, Jaqen, I’m not afraid of _you_!”

His eyebrows raised fractionally. “Maybe a girl should be. A man’s killed countless that were in the same position beneath him as a girl currently is. They all closed their eyes in the throes of pleasure. Death took them when they were unaware of its presence.”

Arya hooked her ankles behind his back, drawing him closer to her. “Please,” she murmured. “Please, Jaqen.”

“What is it, exactly, that a girl pleads for?”

Arya sighed, frustrated. “You, Jaqen. I’m pleading for you. I want you.”

Jaqen grinned wickedly, his hair swaying with the breeze that flew through the window. His eyes glinted in the sunlight. “What’s stopping a lovely girl from having a man?”

Arya’s breath caught in her throat, a small choking sound spilling from her lips. Her pulse pounded in her neck, her heart racing unnaturally fast. Her eyes glinted gold—not because of the sun, either—and she felt as though she were about to explode into millions of tiny pieces, despite the fact that Jaqen wasn’t even touching her, not really. 

His lips found the shell of her ear, brushing against her softly as he whispered. “What is it that a girl wants?”

“You,” she repeated wanly. Frustration sizzled through all of her nerve endings, creating a tingling itch on her skin. 

When Jaqen made no move to extinguish the blaze that raged within Arya, she decided suddenly that she would take matters into her own hands. She tightened the grasp her ankles had on his back and, shoving up on his shoulders with her hands, managed to surprise Jaqen enough to flip him back onto his back. 

Hovering over him, bracing her palms on his chest, she ground her hips sensually against his, eliciting groans from both of them. 

“Fast learner, a girl is,” Jaqen muttered, nodding approvingly. He took her hips in his hands, cautiously slipping his fingers beneath the waistband. When Arya didn’t protest, he cheekily brought both palms to rest upon her ass, kneading gently. 

Steadying herself on her knees, Arya removed her hands from their supporting position and brought them down to the ties of her trousers. Clumsily, she undid them, removing the final barrier that had separated her from Jaqen H’ghar. 

Slowly, Jaqen guided her to sit lightly on his crotch, his now-erect member resting against her rear. Arya gasped when she felt him against her, oddly pleased to know that she was the reason for his state of arousal. 

“If a girl’s still seeking the educational lessons of this,” Jaqen bit out, “then a man will tell her that there were many opportunities to give to the Red God during that.”

Arya didn’t care about the learning opportunity anymore—if she were being honest with herself, she never cared about it. There was just her, Jaqen, the sizzling electricity between them, and the fresh, lemony breezes that filtered through the room. 

“Just take me,” she begged, her lids heavy and her brain fogged. “Fuck me, Jaqen. Make me squirm and see stars. Teach me how good it feels.”

His eyes widened fractionally at her sudden audacity. “As a girl wishes,” he chuckled. 

Keeping one hand on her hip, he trailed the other down between them. His fingers, light and deft, crept between her damp folds to rub around her labia, narrowly and purposefully avoiding her clit. Arya’s fingernails, which were longer than they usually were, dug lightly into Jaqen’s chest. She tried to move her hips against her hand, try to get him to touch her _there_ , but he kept on dodging her movements. 

“Jaqen.”

He breathes out a quick laugh. “Didn’t an impatient girl’s father, the high and mighty Eddard Stark of Winterfell, ever teach her that patience is a virtue?”

“I was being patient,” she stated stubbornly, “until you decided to be a teasing bastard.”

“The ‘teasing’ pays off in the end, lovely girl. Delayed gratification leads to better climaxes.”

“What the hell is that even supposed to mean?”

He flicked her clit, quick and out of the blue, before resuming to rub tantalizingly at the skin around her sensitive nub. “The longer a girl waits, the better the end result.”

“Ahh,” she groaned, wanting him to touch her there again. “How would you like it if I teased you, like you’re teasing me?”

“A man teases; he is not himself teased.”

“Just shut up and touch me already, Jaqen!”

Another face-splitting, wicked grin. “A man is already touching—“

“Gods dammit!”

With little more than a roll of the eyes, Jaqen suddenly shifted his fingers to touch Arya’s bundle of nerves again. He flicked her clit a few times—gently at first, then harder in intensity—before rolling it persistently between his thumb and forefinger. His middle finger teased her lower lips, but didn’t enter her. Not yet.

Arya’s back arched, a loud cry tumbling from her parted lips. Subconsciously, her hips began to grind along with Jaqen’s hand, forcing him to touch her harder, swifter. She was running towards that proverbial cliff—she could see it nearing in the distance, feel the pleasure coming off it—using Jaqen as her ticket to get there. She was climbing the hill to reach that climax, scaling higher and higher…

Jaqen stopped suddenly, withdrawing his hand from Arya’s sex completely and letting the cool breeze touch her dampened, overly sensitive flesh. 

Her eyes snapped open. “What the hell?”

“What’s the matter?” he asked, smiling innocently. His red hair was splayed out across the limp pillow.

“Why did you stop?” She wanted to bury her own hand _down there_ , needing to reach that cliff, which was seemingly fading away. 

He shifted, sitting up enough so that his mouth was at her ear. “A man apologizes. Did a girl want to come?” His voice was a chilling, seductive whisper, deep and husky. 

A shiver ran down her spine. Her muscles were still tense, seeking release. “Please,” she whined—not for the first time that afternoon. 

“Okay.” Jaqen’s fingers found her clit again, tucked carefully between her folds, and he resumed his rubbing. Skillfully, he kept bringing her to climax while he flipped her onto her back so that he hovered above her. He spread her legs apart single-handedly, wrapping her legs around his waist until her ankles formed a steady lock around him. 

“Is a girl ready?” he teased, slowly increasing the pace of his fingers against her core. 

“Don’t stop.”

With another swift flick of his thumb, Arya was sent flying, falling over that alluring precipice. Jaqen kept massaging her, letting her ride out the pleasure. A sweet sign spilled from her pink, kiss-stolen lips. All of her muscles tensed, her back arching as waves crashed upon her core. 

Eventually, the waves ceded, and Arya came tumbling back to earth, back to Braavos, back to the warm, light-filled bedroom, back to Jaqen. She began to sink into the mattress, her muscles feeling suddenly like jelly. Her brown hair, threaded with sweat, lay cast across the pillow, some of it hanging over her shoulders. 

“Gods,” she whispered after some time, her hands coming up to stoke at Jaqen’s neck and jaw. There was the faintest of stubble beneath her fingertips—the short pieces of hair that had managed to grow since Jaqen had last shaved. 

“That was no act of the gods, lovely girl,” Jaqen chuckled, the vibrations of the act running between the both of them. “A man assures that.”

“That was so much better than I imagined it would be,” she admitted shyly, her usual facade of bravery not to be seen. 

He leaned in again. “It’s not even over yet. The best part’s still to come.”

Arya gasped when she felt him press his hips to her thighs, his member hard and profound against her. Bracing himself on his arms, Jaqen moved up slightly, sliding his prick along her wet heat, coating it in her desire. Arya adjusted her legs, giving him more room between them. 

With a long, slow thrust, Jaqen entered her, pausing only when he was buried to the hilt within Arya. His eyes gazed into hers, seeking signs of pain, though he saw none. 

“Move, Jaqen,” she ordered, shifting her hips to encourage him. “I’m fine.”

Nodding, he latched his lips to her neck and withdrew completely. He slammed his hips back home, hard and deep, moaning slightly. 

Arya fisted one of her hands in his silky hair, tipping her head back and drawing him closer to her. She moved to meet his thrusts greedily, trying to hasten his pace, to no avail. 

He began fucking her more shallowly, slowing down his already torturous pace and only entering her with part of his length. Arya wanted nothing more than for him to plunge back into her wholly. The coils of pleasure in her stomach grew tighter, nearing release, though it wasn’t coming. She was at a stand-still, needing more to get off than what Jaqen was giving her. 

“Please.”

“What has a man already told a girl about delayed gratification?”

Arya gritted her teeth. “That it’s absolute rubbish?”

The ridge at the head of his cock was brushing tantalizingly close to her G-spot, and Arya tried her hardest to get Jaqen to stroke deep enough. She could see the cliff face of pleasure—could taste it, really, almost on her tongue—but he wasn’t letting her reach it. 

“Delayed gratification,” he repeated tensely, her scent flooding his nostrils. 

She grasped his face in her hands, heat passing between them as she kissed him hard on the mouth. Jaqen gasped, obviously surprised, and Arya took his moment of weakness to trust her hips up forcefully against his, forcing him deep inside her. Her mouth formed an “o” shape, a sigh tumbling elegantly from her swollen lips. 

Jaqen tensed, straining. He shifted effortlessly to support himself on one arm, snaking the other down between their joined bodies to unabashedly pinch Arya’s engorged nub between his fingers. 

Arya tensed again, falling apart when he flicked her sensitive bundle of nerves. White lights danced across her field of vision, her view of Jaqen and the bedroom wall blurring. Jaqen, too, came after a few more swift strokes of his hips, grunting huskily and closing his eyes as the pleasure rolled over him in waves. 

He rolled off her after a moment, shifting to lay on his back so not to crush her. Their pants filled the room, the city below them surprisingly quiet. The natural light that spilled into the room dimmed with the passing clouds, though neither Jaqen or Arya really noticed. 

Tentatively, as their breathing and hearts slowed to normal, Arya turned towards the red-haired assassin. Their eyes met, and she reached a hand out to stroke his muscular stomach, moving to rest her head on his chest. She was surprised when Jaqen didn’t push her away. 

“Is a girl tired?” He asked quietly, tucking one of her stray pieces of hair behind her ear.  

She shook her head stubbornly, but couldn’t stifle the yawn that played on her lips. 

He chuckled. “A lovely girl should sleep; she’s learned a lot today.”

Arya’s face flushed, but she grinned against the skin of Jaqen’s chest. 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: Do Jaqen and Arya have a ship name? I've looked--albeit not that hard--but I have yet to find one for them.


End file.
